


With His Heart On The Sleeve

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: When dining in the Ritz, everything seems fine at first. Armageddon was averted, the both of them are safe for now, but... but it is just the calm atmosphere that lets the past memories, past fears, past hopelessness surface and Crowley feels too weak to fight them anymore. Fortunately, he has his angel... his guardian angel.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	With His Heart On The Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Jako srdce na dlani](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352568) by [ArcheaMajuar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar). 



> It took me so freaking long to translate this peace of work... Still, I hope that some of you will enjoy it :) There are some mistakes, of course, as I'm not a native speaker, and I apologize for that in advance.
> 
> 1, A opted for a slight change of the title for a literal translation from Czech is "As A Heart On The Palm," while the current title, I think, works better in English. The original title is an idiom in Czech, and similar to one Czech song I was listening to when writing the original piece, and therefore, I'd like to mention the song here as well -> it's called Na dlani (On The Palm in EN) by the band named Mandrage -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7wcspYBDO4

The problem wasn’t in the thing that there was nothing to say, or that Crowley had nothing to talk about at all. The problem was that Crowley had no idea how to explain some issues and how to broach some topics. During the past few days and hours, there were many aspects of living on the Earth that occupied his mind, therefore, not for a single second his mind stopped reeling forward, coming up with ideas which could save the whole mankind, which could fool the Heaven and Hell, while everything else was put aside and successfully ignored.

But now all the rush was over and Crowley was splayed on his usual chair at the Ritz, while he was aware of feeling various kinds of emotions, but none of them resembled anything similar to peace and quiet which should definitely take place after the end of the world was averted.

Well, he might’ve felt something as an illusion of the mentioned things when he together with Aziraphale granted themselves with two glasses of champagne and a delicious meal for their lunch, but the longer they were idly sitting at the Ritz, the more restless Crowley was. Despite his endeavours to conceal his unhappy condition, and what his eyes might’ve let out was hidden behind his sunglasses, it was constantly nagging at Crowley that Aziraphale knew him too well not to notice there was something amiss with his demonic friend.

However, whether the angel spotted something or not, Crowley didn’t know, which on one hand, was troubling him as well, but on the other hand, he sort of welcomed that Aziraphale didn’t press him to join the conversation as he apparently wasn’t in the right mood. Aziraphale took care of the entertainment himself as he opted for describing the grimaces the demons in the Hell which they were pulling when seeing one of their kind revelling in the Holy Water, and that was something capable of reviving Crowley’s spirit at least a bit. From time to time, he even uttered one or two words, which seemed to satisfy Aziraphale as well as the occasional nods or short laughs his fallen friend was giving him. Still, Crowley felt immensely broken on the inside, but during Aziraphale’s narration, it was less painful, less intense.

There were also moments when Crowley almost forgot about his inner wounds, and these moments were usually filled with Aziraphale’s soft laughter, but a shy smile so typical of the angel also managed to lift of Crowley’s burden for a while. The demon couldn’t believe that after the six thousand years they knew each other, Aziraphale was still prone to cast insecure glances at him, lingering on his face for a second before he averted his gaze, his cheeks going pink. However, it fascinated Crowley at once because during these whiles, he felt a powerful urge to remove his own glasses, to place his fingers under the angel’s chin, make him look up, so Aziraphale could see the storm of emotions, raging within the demon every single time the angel was next to him, flashing him with the at most adorable smiles.

So although he was suffering, the unspoken words, the unexpressed feelings were eating him up from the inside, he was able to enjoy their stay at the Ritz, and therefore his reaction to the angel’s suggestion was the way it was.

“Shall we go?” the angel asked with a tender smile tugging at his lips, yet his brows flew up as Crowley, instead of a rather indifferent nod, froze up because he wasn’t able to cope with the sudden wave of panic, constricting his chest and immobilizing his whole body.

“Oh… already?” Crowley forced out as he faced Aziraphale.

The angel looked perplexed, the demon didn’t realize that though. The only thing that mattered to him was Aziraphale’s intention to leave.

“We cannot occupy this lovely table till the midnight. There are other people who would like to dine in here,” Aziraphale said softly, and it could’ve been his voice of reason that penetrated the fog of anxiety, and soothed Crowley’s rattled nerves.

The demon glanced around, and acknowledging the Ritz was, indeed, crowded, he agreed that they should even the bill and depart.

“Very well then,” Crowley said before he tried to regain his nonchalant façade by standing up in one elegant movement, combined with a flamboyant gesture of his arm, which was finished with a snap of his fingers, making the waiter abruptly change his way.

Once Crowley felt the ground under his feet, he also felt the effect of the amount of alcohol he had drunk, therefore, he was fighting for balance for a second, but he quickly reached the victory over gravity, and with a smug smile, he made his move towards Aziraphale.

The angel was waiting for him at the entrance, asking, “Shall I suggest a short walk through the city?” Aziraphale gave him another of his amiable smiles which Crowley wasn’t able to deny anything to.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Crowley looked at the angel from the top of his sunglasses, his mouth widening into a wide grin that Aziraphale was able to recognize as the demon’s alternative of a smile. The gesture was so typical of him that Crowley hoped it would assure his friend about his own well-being.

If Aziraphale pointed his peculiar behaviour out, Crowley wouldn’t trust his defence systems to be working properly as he would probably blurt everything out because of the anger raging within him, or because of the paining sorrow, while the both these emotions were trying to be expressed, yet Crowley desperately tried to keep them locked. As he was slightly shaking with the effort, he realized the annoying heaviness around his stomach.

Although his endeavours not to show any signs of discomfort weren’t totally successful, Crowley still managed his walk to be quite lazy as he was strolling next to Aziraphale, approaching the bookshop slowly, but steadily. Only then a thought, coming out of blue as at the Ritz and being irrational, crossed his hazy mind. Never ever would he considered such nonsense, but in that very moment, Crowley halted for a brief second, feigning his hesitation with raising his leg a bit to take a closer look at his shoes, pretending suspicion that he had stepped into something disgusting. As he aligned with the angel again, Crowley peeked at his friend in an attempt to estimate whether Aziraphale doubted his little charade.

His heart thundering, he heard a strange sound, ringing within his ears. He tried to calm down, yet he wasn’t able to soothe his nerves even when he realized that Aziraphale seemed unfazed by his state, his eyes warm and a bit dreamy as he flashed Crowley with a little smile while they were walking down the street. However, the idea was clinging to him, turning him into his victim as Crowley was sweating heavily, and maybe for the very first time he was feeling very, very hot as if he was capable of having a fever. Saying it was uncomfortable was far from being accurate because the heated wave was shortly followed by the sweat getting cold, making him shiver. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, his throat being too tightened.

Well, being a demon, he didn’t need any air, yet he was so much accustomed to breathing, the inability to inhale properly startled him immensely. As his beloved sleep and drinking coffee and wine, breathing also belonged to his life, so once he was robbed of that, he was left confused and scared, which was the best opportunity for panic spreading through is body. It tricked his rational thinking and turned him into a bunch of dread and bewilderment. The weird, disturbing sound returned.

As his brain was seized by the panic attack, driven by his unconsciousness, Crowley pulled his hand from the pocket of his coat and grasped Aziraphale’s palm, squeezing it desperately.

The both creatures halted in the middle of the street. The angel looked at the demon, surprised, but Crowley was shocked as well by such a bold gesture. His heart still trying to ram through ribcage, his chest constricted and aching, but still… still the unexpected feeling of their connected hands, still the fact that Aziraphale kept holding his hand, it managed to disperse the fog within Crowley’s mind, allowing him to smile the tiniest smiles he had ever smiled. The tension abided slightly as Aziraphale timidly reciprocated the smile.

“I was wondering whether we should continue with a few bottles of wine,” Crowley coerced himself to speak up and to focus on the conversation rather than on his own weakness, and also on preventing the moment from becoming awkward. However, his heart almost stopped as Aziraphale opened his mouth, his expression apologetic.

_He’ll say that we’ve definitely had enough and that…_

But then, as if the angel grasped how high the stakes were, he opted for remaining quiet, before he finally conceded, “This is a marvellous idea, Crowley,” and saying that, his lips curved into a mischievous smile. “I think that I possess some very luxurious wines you might, indeed, appreciate.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” was Crowley utterly satisfied with the answer and felt like dancing as the wave of relief washed over his body which was reminded in the next second that they were standing still in the middle of a busy street. Therefore, once they agreed on heading for Aziraphale’s bookshop, a crowd of rushing people thronged through them, parting their hands violently and making Crowley irritably wonder why they had chosen to chase the subway exactly through the minimal space he and the angel kept between them.

Even though they were both strolling towards Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley was still restless and doubts were filling his mind. They were going to drink together some wine, however, he couldn’t get rid of the intrusive thoughts, and moreover, he was literally ashamed of the previous panic attack coming from the fear of Aziraphale leaving him.

Shaking his head to disperse such thoughts, he let himself revel in his bold gesture to grab Aziraphale by his hand and also in the blissful knowledge that the angel didn’t object.

But why… why did he… what was the reason behind the panic attack? Why did he freak out so much about something that didn’t make any sense? If he hadn’t asked, the angel would’ve probably invited him over himself in the very moment they’d be standing in front of the bookshop. The invitation mightn’t have been for a bottle of wine, but maybe for a cup of tea or some other mundane things the angel was obsessed with. It was maddening, but… but everything might’ve been coming from the unbearable urge to tell Aziraphale so many things, to reveal how desperate he was to be close to him, just to see him, however… however, how was he supposed to put all the feelings and needs in words?

That was something even the demon had no idea about and for a second, he wished there would be another disaster coming their way so he would escape the tangle of thoughts and emotions that started to annoy him a bit as he was meandering among them, all hopeless and foolish.

 _At last, he wasn’t losing his style_ , Crowley mused and a forced smug smile splayed upon his lips as he fluently slipped into an alley, his hands deep in his pockets, and in a similar fashion he arrived to the bookshop, waiting for Aziraphale to enter. As he followed the angel inside, the Hell ascended.

The demon instinctively clasped his hands on his head as if he could stop the wave of thoughts like that, but he had no chance as the memories bombed his mind, forcing him to feel the flames devouring the room again. He almost could’ve felt their heat, their power, their lethality which he was immune to, however, the most precious _thing_ within his life wasn’t. They would’ve destroyed him in a blink of an eye…

Growling menacingly, he let his hands fall along his sides and he rushed for the kitchen where Aziraphale kept all of his wines. If the angel strongly disapproved of his action, Crowley didn’t notice as when he caught a glimpse of Aziraphale the next time, Crowley had already finished the first glass and was pouring himself another one.

“I’ve opened what came under my hand at first,” he said, his voice raspy for some reason. “I hope you’re not cross…” he glanced up to Aziraphale who was watching him from the doorframe, worries written all over his angelic face.

“Not at all,” Aziraphale assured his friend before he decided to leave his spot at the door, and joined Crowley next to the table, looking at the etiquette of the bottle. “I’ve being meaning to open this one, anyway. I’ve thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I definitely do,” gurgled Crowley into his glass as he was about to drink at least a half of it. Afterwards, he just leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, sighing contently. For a while, his mind was entirely empty, the knot within his stomach eased a bit as well as the tightness in his throat, which Crowley immensely welcomed.

Moreover, the wine tasted wonderfully, and Crowley clicked his tongue, blinking in surprise as he felt a touch upon his arm.

“Shall we move to the sofa?” nodded Aziraphale towards private parts of his bookshop, offering Crowley a gentle smile, and the demon was literally melting under his touch and look of the pair of kind eyes. He almost didn’t have to have the last word in their exchange. Almost.

“You don’t have a sofa,” he sputtered and theatrically threw his arms away. “It’s just a hideous old ottoman that you nobly call chaise longue!”

“According to the dictionary, officially, it is called a baroque chaise longue. I’ve taken care of it, thank you very much,” informed him Aziraphale, looking at most serious and pompous, but as Crowley kept staring sceptically at him from top of his sunglasses, the angel sighed in resignation and waved his hand towards the main room. “Have it your way,” he added when the deed was done and he impatiently watched Crowley to leave the kitchen.

To be sure, Crowley stopped in the doorframe to look back whether Aziraphale would bring another bottle of wine along, and once the angel really did so, the Crowley headed for the couch, suddenly feeling confident that his previous state wasn’t going to pay him a visit any time soon. In another few seconds, he was already splayed on the leather sofa.

“You’ve certainly surpassed my expectations, angel,” he shouted to Aziraphale who probably forgot himself in the kitchen as only then he joined Crowley in the main room and sat down rather close to the demon, which rather surprised Crowley. His demonic eyes were just staring at him, estimating how many inches were remaining between them, while he was striving to keep the set distance as it was, even though he ached to show his dear friend how close he wanted to be with him.

“I’m glad you like it,” smiled the angel one totally angelic smile, melting Crowley’s grimace into a genuinely touched smile. “It doesn’t fit the style in here, though,” Aziraphale added, referring to the obsolete furniture in his bookshop, where the leather couch definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

Well, I don’t either, thought Crowley as he followed the angel’s gaze around. The mistake of such a simple movement made itself known right away as he flinched, shock filled his lungs, and his back was covered in cold sweat. Shivering, his eyes went blind, so Crowley took down his sunglasses in panic, hoping he would see something else, but only daunting flames were dancing the dance of death in front of his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he wasn’t able to force the fire to vanish, it was licking up the walls of the bookshop, the books turning into ashes, followed by furniture, the carpet… Everything was burning, the wood cracking, and then he heard a scream. A scream full of agonizing pain as if something was violently wrenched away from this world, leaving just the heart-breaking cry behind.

Wheezing, Crowley breathed in, scared and with tears in his eyes, he realized the bookshop was again alright. His chest was heaving, desperately trying to gather as much oxygen as possible, even though he didn’t need it, and there were teardrops of sweat upon his forehead. His shirt was sticking to his skin and a shard of glass was diving painfully into his palm. Slowly, very slowly he looked at his hand where he was holding an empty glass, its stem being broken in half.

And as if from a vast distance, the scream was still resonating within his head, and only then he understood that the cry was his own.

He wasn’t screaming anymore when he repaired the glass and the damaged tissue of his skin as well, yet he heard his painful shout in his memories and the vision, respectively. It was his scream, he mused bewildered, his eyes blindly gawking into the space where the contrast between light and darkness was still intact. During the eventful night there were flames inside and night outside, while tonight the darkness was all the same outside, contrasting with the warm lights of the bookshop. Despite the fact the light wasn’t caused by the fire this time, Crowley gasped for air.

In the deepest depths of his soul, Crowley knew that Aziraphale is here with him, but his purely demonic part was writhing in the chains of restraint as the constant attempts of being good, of keeping his desires and wants on hold… all of that was clouding his mind and forcing him lower and lower to the pit of his screaming soul.

_You’re a demon! And demons do whatever they want, they take whatever they desire, and never ever they think of others, never ever they show genuine respect and value anybody else! You’re a demon, Crowley, do behave like one!_

He heard himself scream when the tattoo on his temple started burning like a hell. Struggling to believe it, he quickly covered it with his hand, the other one being placed upon his chest that was tightened with an abysmal fear, setting his whole body on devastating fire. The hopelessness struck again in its most horrendous form, making him live through the torturous memory of the bookshop being ablaze with Aziraphale nowhere to be seen. Back was the feeling of abandonment, back was the staggering idea of being utterly alone, and robbed of the only reason for trying to stop the Armageddon. Weren’t he sitting, his knees would betray him, letting him fall to the ground in the same way as before.

His mind, his body, his soul were living through the whole excruciating experience anew despite Crowley didn’t want to, but something deep within his essence was dragging him through it, fuelling him with the anger and hurt he felt back then, and striving to make him surrender to those emotions, to let them rule his mind, and render all his pain into a natural disaster, a pandemics, or at least into a mass traffic accident.

Messaging slightly his temple, Crowley was breathing loudly, slightly relieved as the burning subsided. His clothes was adhering to his skin, heart violently beating, and in the next second, he buried his nails into his soft skin only not to lose the grip on the reality, only in a desperate endeavour not to fall back into that chaos. As he was striving to succeed, he was well aware of the pathetic little sound he produced out of toil and pain, yet the whimper turned into a grateful sigh once he felt a pleasant wind, wafting around him and arousing a thought that he had never needed something so much like this.

“That’s so good,” a groan escaped through his lips as the cool air gradually diverted the splitting headache, and the freshness of the wind persuaded him to take a few deep, concentrated breaths that helped him to calm down.

Being almost his previous self, he opened his eyes to face Aziraphale carefully, as to estimate what he could expect the angel was about to do or say. His heart just sank at the caring look Aziraphale was giving him.

“I… I wanted to help… earlier, I mean but I had no idea… and you were…” stammered the angel out, trying to explain why he didn’t react in any other way before creating the fresh wind. Apparently ashamed due do it, he was an utter picture of misery, and Crowley couldn’t bear the look any longer. By shaking his head, he managed to stop the litany of angel’s apologies.

“I panicked…” Aziraphale added sheepishly, still sorry and still embarrassed.

“That makes it two of us,” said Crowley, one corner of his lips twitching in a parody on a smile. He reached for the bottle of wine, hoping that keeping himself occupied with anything would anchor him in reality, but a second before he touched it, Aziraphale snatched the bottle and put it away from Crowley’s reach.

The demon raised his brows, questioningly looking at Aziraphale.

“No more wine, Crowley,” he said resolutely, “At least not until you tell me what has just happened.”

“What has happened?” snapped Crowley at Aziraphale. It was utterly without thinking; as if an automatic response meant for protection, but upon barking at the angel like that, Crowley’s stomach turned upside down. However, unbeknownst to that particular feeling, his eyes rolled out of the sockets, his mouth agape, and like that he motionlessly waited for the weird urge to fade out. In meanwhile, he realized his mind was completely clear for he might’ve sobered up during the incident. Aziraphale, on the contrary, sobered up intentionally.

“Crowley?” was Aziraphale’s voice soft, and his eyes appeared so as well when Crowley looked at him again, but his expression was changed as he nodded at Crowley’s back. “Your wings.”

It took some seconds for Crowley to grasp what his best friend was implying. He wouldn’t have ever guessed that during the moment in which his soul was detached from the terrestrial world, being tortured and quenched by his innate demonic side, it would cause his wings to materialize. But as Crowley dejectedly noticed, his wings were deprived of all their grandeur. They were crumpled, flickering in an unnatural position between his back and the sofa. The sight of his wings made Crowley’s throat dry up. Those hollow places in the myriad of black feathers were as a punch into his face.

“Crowley, I am so sorry for what I’ve told you… Back in the altar and even then… in the street,” Aziraphale mewled, and it was the sheer remorse within his voice which hit Crowley hard in his soul, so he curbed his courage to gaze at him in the moment when Aziraphale seemed to be mesmerized by Crowley’s wings, covering one of the empty spots with his hand. Either the gesture or the touch itself brought about another shiver to the demon, however, this one represented only the positive effects.

But Crowley still didn’t know how to cope with them. Taken aback, he opted for something he knew very well – sarcasm.

“And why exactly are you saying this?”

If only could he take back the stupid question and get lost in Aziraphale’s arms, assuring him that he had forgiven him, mused Crowley as the angel fixed his eyes upon him. The two depths were communicating plethora of different emotions Crowley wouldn’t have been able to even name, which made him feel even smaller, more futile, and utterly useless than he had been already feeling. Unable to behave like a proper demon, unable to follow the purpose of his existence, and he even failed at not being a demon at all. He kept balancing somewhere in between, he didn’t belong anywhere, and it was only his own fault.

It was also his fault that Aziraphale was looking at him in puzzlement, seemingly as lost in this world as Crowley, as if he had no idea why Crowley was asking him this, as if he had no idea why Crowley doubts his sincere apology…

“Well, I have assumed that you’ve got in that… state,” hesitated Aziraphale when he realized he was caressing Crowley’s wing, upon which he withdrew his hand, folding the both of them into his lap. As that, he was a total embodiment of insecurity, yet it was his brave attitude that urged him to finish the sentence, “I’ve assumed that you’ve got into that state also because of those ugly words I said to you… even though neither of them I meant, Crowley.”

The demonic part of Crowley’s soul roared at the opportunity to cause more harm as it felt enraged by what Aziraphale was trying to explain, and due to Crowley’s preserving weakness, the demonic side was unleashed.

“The world keeps spinning thanks to us, I give you that, but everything does not revolves around you,” he heard himself saying, but it was accompanied by the sound of chains, rattling in the distance, and by his own scream, causing his blood going cool. He desperately needed to mute those cries, so he continued in his hissing, “You can’t believe I’ll break down due to something you say. You’ve said it many times – You’re an angel, I am a demon, and we are destined to despise each other…”

“It’s not like that, Crowley!” Aziraphale interrupted him sharply. “It’s not true and you know it!”

Literally hanging on Aziraphale’s blue eyes, he saw the unyielding determination in them. Suddenly, the rattling faded away as Crowley’s admiration for his best friend filled his chest, pointing him on the right path.

“Yes… I… I know,” he conceded slowly before a wave of relief surged through his body, and once Aziraphale nodded, satisfied by Crowley’s reply, the angel shuffled closer and pointed a sceptical look at Crowley’s wings.

“Can you make them disappear?” were his eyes darting between the wings and Crowley’s eyes. “It’s just…. It’d be a shame if they were only more damaged.”

“I’ve tried,” said Crowley in a husky voice, his eyes being drawn to the hollow spots between the black feathers, yet he welcomed it for he didn’t have to face Aziraphale anymore, feeling so down and pathetic in front of him. “I guess I’m broken…” he murmured, unsure about what he really meant by that, unsure whether he wished Aziraphale to hear it, but in the end, he didn’t care.

The angel had seen him hitting rock bottom and it was a fact that Crowley had no energy to put on his carefree façade anymore, not mentioning his overall shortage of power to even let his wings disappear. Still, he was pretty disgusted with himself for being so weak, and were he in Aziraphale’s position, he would’ve given up on himself. He must’ve created such a pathetic look when he wasn’t able to be terrifying in the slightest, when he wasn’t concocting any mischievous plans…

Why are you lying even to yourself? he asked himself, grimacing at the floor he was looking at. What mischief? He hadn’t prepared anything entirely evil for decades now and he’d wish it was just because of his inate laziness. It would’ve been alright then, truthful to his demonic essence which he found to be scared of. Fortunately, all his thoughts regarding demonic sides and evil were wafted away once Crowley realized there was a gentle touch upon his forearm. That so much needed touch provided him with the so much needed assurance that he wasn’t alone in this mess. The so much needed assurance that Aziraphale hadn’t given up on him.

However, before he said or did anything, Crowley noticed quite an interesting thing – despite the angel’s essence, despite his own layer of fabric, Aziraphale’s touch was pleasantly heated, its warmth spreading throughout Crowley’s whole body. In the greatest intensity it accumulated in his chest that was already bursting with emotions held towards his dearest Aziraphale, while the angel was looking at him with fondness written in every feature of his face.

“I’m quite good in healing,” Aziraphale remarked without releasing Crowley’s arm.

Crowley gulped when staring at the storm of feelings shining in the angel’s eyes, and he wasn’t sure where he managed to cluster enough courage to ask, shivering: “Would you try to heal a demon, Aziraphale?”

Despite the verbal answer wasn’t coming because the angel just nodded, his deep blue eyes were talking for themselves.

“Thank you,” Crowley attempted to express his genuine gratitude, he knew what it was about to cause though. The sharp pain sprang from his temples into his torso, and as the demon raised his hands to his aching head, he hissed, “Damn it! Why does it hurt so much?”

“Crowley…?”

“To be good, Aziraphale,” growled Crowley, taking in the last spasms of throbbing pain, leaving his hands to slightly massage his head so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at the angel. “Sometimes I really wish I didn’t fall. I wouldn’t have to put up with such things!”

“I… I had no idea! I had no idea it hurts you when you’re good,” Aziraphale’s voice quivering with shock and sympathy, “If I had known, I would have never asked you for anything! I…”

“It’s not usually that bad,” Crowley interrupted him, finally meeting his eyes. “Actually, it had never been so bad. This is the first time when…” trailed off the demon, looking for a word that would sum up what was going on in him. Returning his gaze towards the floor, thinking whether he was even able to find the fitting expression, but once he showed these signs of insecurity, Aziraphale again decided to help. Moving his palm up, he planted it on Crowley’s nape from where another bunch of waves of soothing warmth commenced their journey mainly to Crowley’s chest, but the demon shivered the most once Aziraphale’s fingers brushed his hair.

It was so nice, so comforting, so heart-warming that Crowley sighed in relief, trembling anew, yet this time the shudder was a good one. It was healing, supporting, turning him a friend of such touches as suddenly he knew he wished for more of them, respectively he was hungry for another stimulus that would bring about a new wave of this sweet, uplifting pleasure that only Aziraphale could give him.

Acquiring this unexpected lightness resonating within his soul, with a clear mind he spoke up, “It isn’t that I am not able to do anything good. I just mustn’t think of it. When we were saving the world, there was no time for contemplating out decisions. I just did what I did, and moreover, all the good things I’ve done were balanced by the fact that we were trying to stop Armageddon in spite of the whole Heaven and Hell,” stretched his mouth into a satisfied grin because he was genuinely proud of it.

Grasping Crowley’s point of view, Aziraphale smirked for a brief moment. Then he grew serious again as there was something amiss about Crowley’s explanation.

“But… but what about all those nice things you’ve done for me?” he asked sheepishly, afraid that he would embarrass Crowley, which was also the reason why he withdrew his hand from the demon’s nape.

Crowley was more than prepared to snap at Aziraphale, to maintain that he had never done anything nice for him, but then he heard the most subtle sounds of chains, growing with each denial of something obvious or something undeniable, which was honestly puzzling the demon. It didn’t make any sense to think that his evil part demanded him to reveal everything to Aziraphale, to tell him how much he suffered when he thought he had lost his angel… Well…

“I’ve always balanced it with something mischievous,” he admitted in the end, rather opting for talking than contemplating how much he immediately missed Aziraphale’s touch. “When I cleaned your coat, I swapped the fake guns for real ones. And don’t forget that before that I had walked on a piece of lawn that was forbidden to be stepped on.”

“And when you saved my book, you knew you could afford it as you just had destroyed the whole church,” Aziraphale breathed out, gawking at Crowley in a similar fashion he did exactly during that event, which left the demon with a surge of warmth cumulating around his heart, his lips curving into a little smile.

“Isn’t it possible to avoid it somehow?” changed Aziraphale’s expression into a literally unhappy one.

“Had I decided not to employ in that unpopular activity of sauntering vaguely down…” Crowley shrugged. “Otherwise, I guess there’s nothing which could help. The best I can do is not to think of it. Doing something good here, something good over there, but everything just absent-mindedly, that’s the best way as I’m not aware of it, and therefore my demonic side cannot really punish me for it.”

Thoughtfully, Aziraphale nodded, his eyes observing Crowley’s wings as he asked, “What happened to your car before we met in Tadfield?”

“I drove through a fire barrier, blazing around London,” Crowley replied and watched Aziraphale cautiously. The angel seemed to be pondering something important, something that might’ve been connected to the fact that Crowley’s shell endured the fire unlike Hastur’s. “It was your doing, wasn’t it?” he raised his brows.

“Maybe?” Aziraphale squeaked, unnerved by the question for he wasn’t sure how Crowley could react to his intervention.

“C’mon, angel, it’s over. You can tell me,” opted Crowley for persuading his insecure friend, but any further endeavour weren’t necessary as Aziraphale spoke up, rendering Crowley speechless, motionless.

“I blessed you.”

“What did you do?” Crowley’s snake-like eyes were positively about to jump out of their sockets.

“I blessed you, Crowley, that is what I did!” Aziraphale suddenly exclaimed bravely, throwing his act right into Crowley’s face. “I had no idea what you could go through, so I needed to make sure that at least one of us would make it safely to Tadfield. And you were the more probable option because you had your body.”

Unable to do anything but stare at the angel, Crowley couldn’t believe his ears. He wouldn’t have ever consider it, but when he was thinking about it now, the fascinating thing was that he survived being blessed. Aziraphale estimated it well, it didn’t hurt him despite being a demon, however, the whole act of blessing was still in a complete opposition of anything demonic. His essence should cancel the blessing out! It didn’t make any sense that not only didn’t it destroy him, but also worked as it was supposed to.

“That’s why I made it…”

“I guess, it is,” Aziraphale assented, “Although I didn’t know whether it wouldn’t hurt you, but… You were an angel once as well and I know, Crowley, there is something inherently good about you. I had to believe that I’m not hurting you, but quite the opposite – that I’m protecting you.”

“It was genius,” said Crowley honestly once he managed to close his mouth, “A bit naïve, yes, but in the end, it was genius,” he grinned at Aziraphale, eyes fond and tender and making the angel blush at the received praise. His happy smile hit Crowley deep in his soul and his difficultly regain self-control was shattered in the very moment. Without any restraints, he blurted out, “I’ve missed you.”

“Crowley…” the angel breathed out the demon’s name, touched and keeping their eyes locked, which Crowley supposed he managed only because he loved seeing his demon smiling so openly, so honestly.

And Crowley didn’t feel any remorse regarding the unguarded second, yet he sort of expected to be struck by another pang of pain, another spasm of splitting headache, however, none of these happened. He experienced only the everlasting love for his dearest friend, the love that was stretching throughout his chest, and making his heart ache in the most beautiful way.

An idea crossed his mind.

“Haven’t you blessed me again, have you?” he asked curiously as it would’ve explained why he wasn’t punished for being nice.

The angel shook his head dismissively though.

“I didn’t, but…” he tilted his head. “I actually might try to do it again were you aware of doing something good in advance. You know, if you had no idea how to balance it, I could help.”

“We can give it a shot,” Crowley assented as such insurance might come in handy.

If the Heaven and Hell would really decide to commence a war with humanity, which he should terrorize himself, Crowley would definitely side with them though… Yeah, it would be nice to have someone to watch his back, and Crowley was sure that there wasn’t anybody else whom he could count on better than his dear angel, whom he deep down perceived as his guardian angel. It sounded kind of odd, but the fact that his best friend was an angel was bizarre as well, yet it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Would you mind telling me then what I witnessed here?” Aziraphale returned to their previous topic, his tone careful and at most friendly, signalling that he wasn’t about to push Crowley. He had a choice. He didn’t have to reveal anything, and the angel would respect that.

“I guess I should,” the demon conceded, and as a tremble of fear cruised through his body at the prospect of retelling the worst moments, Aziraphale quickly comprehended, renewing his touch upon Crowley’s nape. Crowley experienced its impact immediately, being encompassed by soothing waves of warmth, sailing to every part of his shell.

 _I here_ , Crowley understood from the tender gesture. _I am here and nobody will harm you anymore._

The demon gulped and gazed in front of himself, preparing himself for any kind of pain, however, his demonic part wasn’t now able to exploit his tortuous memories, tied to the view of the bookshop.

Relieved, Crowley spoke up. Although his own ego was wounded and kept nagging him to avoid the conversation, Crowley didn’t listen to it, didn’t listen to warnings that it would be better for him not to expose his soul, and that he should opt for the safety of blissful ignorance, curbing his emotions and desires and memories and all the chaos that was scaring him to death. However, these voices eventually subsided, being silenced by Crowley’s empowered need to be honest with Aziraphale. He keened to tell him everything, to share his pain with him, to show him how much he suffered when realizing he had lost his angel, yet still the purpose of this urge to reveal it remained hidden to him.

“I’ve thought that She had in mind tough challenges for the humankind, but by that evening I knew that She was trying the both of us, too,” he remarked when finishing his story, his mind almost utterly blank after reliving the moment when he found the bookshop empty and ablaze.

“You’re insinuating…”

“Yes, angel,” confirmed Crowley his thoughts before Aziraphale even voiced them. “It’s not the first time we speak of this, but I genuinely cannot believe that it was just a coincidence we met in the Garden of Eden. It wasn’t a coincidence that we kept bumping into each other on regular basis, willing to accept truce even though we should have been arch enemies, but… but we have never been. Not exactly…” Crowley managed no to say anything committing, for example that he had been having a soft spot for his angel for over 6,000 years.

They plunged into silence before Aziraphale sharply inhaled and deeply exhaled, eyes closed, and for a split second, Crowley couldn’t think of anything else but hugging him. In meanwhile, the angel recomposed himself, yet his look remained bewildered.

“Supposing you’re right, our friendship was meant to form despite our differences? To form a companionship in order to avert Armageddon…” he said, his voice quivering with supressed anger which Crowley understood perfectly.

“Just look back at the past 6,000 years…” Crowley suggested, yet Aziraphale didn’t let him finish.

“6,000 years spent in false conviction that I’m not allowed to like you, that I’m forbidden to be with you…” Aziraphale’s voice was shaking with force he was speaking with, and Crowley’s expression shifted to a caring one once he spotted tears, shining in the corners of the bluest pair of eyes in the world.

“The both of us were lying to each other… and to ourselves as well,” attempted Crowley softly to console him friend. “At first I strived to make myself believe I don’t like you, moreover, that I even despise you… And the more I lied to myself about you, the more I hated myself for not being able to… dislike you.”

Refraining from saying more, he provided Aziraphale with some time to grasp the meaning of his words. The angel sat next to him, resembling a pile of unhappiness, but as Aziraphale fixed his eyes upon the demon, Crowley felt utterly mesmerized by the warmth he was looking at him with.

Aziraphale’s fingers buried in Crowley’s hair shifted in a caressing manner.

“Do you still hate yourself, Crowley?” asked Aziraphale, his voice cracking, and the demon didn’t even ponder deceiving his friend.

“I wouldn’t say it’s hatred… not anymore,” he shook his head, sighing tiredly as he was almost fed up with his inability to voice his feelings elegantly. “More like… more like something connected to the fact that I’m a demon that isn’t able to do _really_ bad stuff. I should cause natural disasters, start a pandemics or a war, but I don’t care about these things, Aziraphale. I don’t like doing these things,” he faced his angel as he continued. “There’s no fun in it. I prefer coaxing countryside priests into stealing cattle from the near villages as the outcome is funnier than bringing about car accidents. I just… I just feel as a failure of a demon when I don’t fancy doing disasters… It feels as I’m not a proper demon anymore, but… if I’m not, what I am then?”

Crestfallen, he let the question echo within the room, between them, and inside his head, yet the silence among them didn’t last long as the angel had an answer.

“You’re my best friend, Crowley,” said Aziraphale softly, and Crowley’s heart throbbed upon hearing those kind words. “Proper demon or not, I like you the way you are.”

“But…” the demon had to swallow because of his throat going utterly dry, his soul quivering with rebelling emotions, “but I will always be a demon, Aziraphale. I’m not going to be like you… again,” he managed to add in a small voice as fear thwarted his intensions to explain eloquently what he had on his mind. The pain wasn’t coming though, and the only burning thing around was Aziraphale’s palm upon his nape, caressing him slowly as its comforting, yet intense heat penetrated his skin, successful seeking its way into Crowley’s heart.

The angel didn’t dwell on Crowley’s words for a second, but his following statement still buried itself into Crowley’s mind.

“I think that one Aziraphale is perfectly enough for this world,” smiled the angel gently at his friend, however, as unhappy expression wasn’t about to leave Crowley’s features right away. Thus, Aziraphale brushed his hair, saying, “If you had been more like me, we would have never averted the Armageddon. You’ve saved the Prophecies from the flames, you’ve driven through the wall of fire, and you’ve risked your existence to stop the time to provide Adam with his opportunity to think about his next step…”

“Yeah, I did that,” was the demon’s reaction quite bitter as Aziraphale’s list of heroic actions stretched a cold void in his chest instead of making him feel better. “But only thanks to you. It was you who found me in that tavern. It was you who figured out that Adam was the Antichrist…”

“You would have figured it out by yourself,” insisted Aziraphale, however, determination in his voice seemed like a far cry once Crowley gazed on the ground, his wings trembled as he sighed tiredly.

“You don’t understand…” he said under his breath and his vision went black, but probably thanks to Aziraphale’s soothing hand, Crowley’s vivid memories failed to utterly engulf the demon, bestowing him with panic and agonizing pain that were firmly tied to revisiting the past few days.

“I thought that you were hopelessly dead and that I’m alone. Somebody or something took you away from me, but I couldn’t believe that anybody would ever hurt you and… and I couldn’t cope with the fact that I didn’t protect you. And then… instead of saving the world, I got sloshed in a tavern to silence the voices telling me that I am a complete failure. I felt guilty! I never ever should feel anything like that!” he casted an utterly lost look at his friend, his eyes brimming with desperation. Shaking, he again stared in front of himself, his voice subsequently dropping into a whisper. “We are supposed to live for disasters, for pain and death, but I’m a joke… If you hadn’t found me in the tavern, I would have wasted all the remaining time by being drunk. I would have let the Armageddon destroy me as well because without… without you, Aziraphale, everything seemed pointless. I didn’t care about anything anymore, and… why should I save the world if I’m not allowed to share it with you?”

The room plunged into silence that became gradually interrupted by frantic rustling of Crowley’s wings. The demon once again heard the sounds of chains and his own scream, however, this time his cry didn’t bear any traces of woe. His voice was growing stronger and stronger and rang with… with relief. And despite the demon’s mind kept being flooded with torturous memories, liberating relief washed over his body, alleviating his thoughts to a completely different level where things made sense, where he could finally realize that… that he was free.

Lightness was surging through is body like crazy, swiftly transforming into a bolt of energy that filled Crowley’s shell from the head to the toes, urging Crowley to stand up and step forward.

Breathless and mesmerized, Aziraphale watched the demon’s wings spreading, flattening themselves, and the winkles were disappearing slowly until the wings regain their previous form. Crowley shook them, and a few feathers fell down, turning into ash that vanished in the very next moment. But for that the wings looked almost healthy.

They were slightly cramped as if they went through tough times, yet definitely they seemed to be on the best way to recovery, Aziraphale thought.

Crowley deeply inhaled and grinned, realizing what happened. He felt quite good. The rattling died down, his own screams as well even though he was standing in the middle of the bookshop where that all happened. He was free of chains, free of pain, and Crowley literally felt like Shelly’s Prometheus. Well, Aziraphale’s Prometheus for it was his dear angel who coaxed Shelly into rewriting the original.

“How do you feel? Are you well?” Aziraphale rose to his feet, too, in order to take a closer look at Crowley’s wings.

“Much better,” the demon nodded and deliberately flexed his wings. “The rest will heal…” he commented on the empty spots.

“I think so,” Aziraphale said before asking carefully, “Or do you have anything else on your mind?”

“Well, I’m a bit annoyed that She let us suffer for 6,000 years for nothing,” voiced Crowley what irked him, employing his favourite irony once he felt just a tad better.

“Me too, however, we succeeded in the end…” the angel suggested, eyes fixed on Crowley’s wings, caressing one of the hollow places. “Still, I have to admit that the thing with punishing you for doing something good now and then occurs ridiculous and totally unfair to me.”

“But it matches the threat of falling once you make a blunder, I guess,” voiced Crowley an idea that crossed his mind, “whereas I cannot fall any lower.”

The angel’s palm halted in its movement upon the wing, and Crowley could only speculate what Aziraphale was musing on, but Crowley certainly noticed his friend’s anxiety, and it was a miracle Aziraphale wasn’t shaking.

“You would have fallen lower… in my eyes… if you had run away to the Alpha Centauri,” said the angel ever so quietly without meeting Crowley’s look. It took some very long seconds before the demon grasped the information, his heart throbbing as he was desperately searching not only for words, but also for his voice that failed to work in such an intense situation.

“I wouldn’t have left… without you,” he finally rasped, and even though his ego begged him to avert the discussion of the topic, being aware of how vulnerable he was in front of his angel. His scared soul wanted to escape being in the spotlight, however, Crowley managed to cast these feelings aside because… because the need not to disappoint the angel was stronger than anything else. His aching heart had to come clean, “I wouldn’t have ever run away because my will to exists is not tied to a place, but only to you, angel.”

He was aware of it. He was aware of his words, being almost equal to a declaration of love, but he just felt that way. Although, there were still some remaining doubts, all of them vanished once Aziraphale inhaled sharply. Only slightly unnerved, Crowley watched his friend, his reactions, yet in the end, he decided that he should do something more. He should say something more, or maybe everything. On one trustingly opened palm, there was his fall, his self-loathing, his pain and his wounds, while his other palm was slowly opening, offering his heart to the angel who just fixed his loving blue eyes upon Crowley’s.

“I thought I’d say it in Tadfield, just mere seconds before I stopped the time, and just mere seconds after you told me to do something or you’ll never talk to me again,” Crowley revealed, striving to sound as honest as he was able to. “I meant to tell you how much I treasure you…. but in such a situation, I had to focus on something else, but I knew I was about to do anything, literally anything to save the world. For you. For us. So we could be here together, because the world without you means nothing to me, angel.”

The following silence didn’t stretch for long as Aziraphale succeeded in his search for the best answer quite quickly, and once it wes said, Crowley knew it was genuinely the best Aziraphale could’ve come up with.

“So… we… can we be together now?” the angel’s voice was shaking due to the powerful emotions he was bursting with, “Can I… Can I take care of you, so you wouldn’t suffer when you’re good for me…? Eh, that sounded rather awfully, didn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” grinned Crowley briefly. “I know what you mean,” he understood though.

“At least I could repay you for what you’ve done for me,” the blue eyes were shining with gratitude and Crowley was totally sure that the angel was referring to the incident, ending with Crowley saving Aziraphale’s books from the destroyed church. The memory never ceased to send shivers down his spine and bring a smile to his lips at the rekindled remembrance of Aziraphale’s expression back then… An expression that wasn’t dissimilar to the one gracing his features right now, yet then the angel dropped his gaze, insecure and joyful at once. However, in a span of a few seconds, he whispered in awe, “They have healed.”

Crowley stepped away, putting some distance between them so he was able to turn around as many times as he wished in order to meticulously observe his wings… a to see that Aziraphale was, indeed, right.

“I’ve tried to help them… with my powers but I did it a while ago,” remarked Aziraphale thoughtfully while couldn’t tear his eyes away from the black feathers.

“We’ve both helped them, I guess. Each of us in a different way, but… it worked,” Crowley gave Aziraphale a little smile. Then he folded his wings and again, successfully this time, he let them disappear. Of course, he enjoyed stretching them from time to time, however, the bookshop wasn’t the most convenient place for any wing exercise sessions. He saved it up for later because now he had something else on mind that should be done – reducing the distance between him and the angel, he finally took the leap and faced the moment of truth. With all the courage he mustered, Crowley looked into the bluest eyes, brimming with hope.

“I love you, Aziraphale,” he said in a firm voice despite his fears, constricting his throat. However, this time, there wasn’t a fear for himself and his existence, as he dreaded future of his angel whom just lay his hands upon Crowley’s chest. His eyes closed, Aziraphale leaned into him to bring their mouths together.

Crowley kissed him back in the next second, his heart aching with love and the tightness in his throat migrating lower to his chest where it didn’t cause any discomfort. Quite the opposite, as it made Crowley feel how real this was, how painfully beautiful it was…

“You don’t fall because of me, do you?” Crowley almost whimpered once he forced himself to leave those warm, soft lips, but his fears for Aziraphale’s safety were too great.

“I don’t think I’ll fall,” answered the angel, yet his voice quivered slightly, wetting his lips before his eyes dropped to Crowley’s mouth, while the demon’s eyes basically couldn’t refrain from darting between Aziraphale’s now so wet lips and those blue eyes that suddenly occurred darker than usual. Crowley sensed why it could be, but only as he really admitted it to himself, his knees went weak.

“If our closeness was a part of the plan since the beginning, I cannot see why we shouldn’t be together, and why anybody would be allowed to reprimand me for it,” said Aziraphale.

“Even though if I’m a demon?” Crowley asked in a desperately small voice.

In disbelief, Aziraphale gasped, while Crowley waited for an answer, his snake-like eyes as restless as his hands, itching with need to touch his friend once again, his mouth eager to kiss the angel’s, yet he managed to hold himself back until he would hear the reply…

“For me, you aren’t just a demon, Crowley,” Aziraphale raised his hand to the demon’s face, touching him tenderly. “For me, you’re the most precious existence in the world.”

“More precious than the original copies of ancient books, than the crapes, sushi, or classical music?” Crowley’s brows moved up playfully, stress fading away from his body as relief surged through him.

“More precious than anything else, my boy,” caressed Aziraphale Crowley’s cheek, and then he commenced the most intense storm of emotions that Crowley could’ve ever experience by saying just these four words, “I love you, too,” revealed Aziraphale, reciprocating Crowley’s happy smile. Upon that, the both of them leaned forward in order to seal their declarations of love by a soft kiss, accompanied by the movement of Crowley’s hands as the demon finally allowed himself to touch the angel, planting his palms on his face while he kissed him deeply with all the tenderness he discovered in his soul.

He didn’t hold his urges back anymore, he didn’t struggle with his love for Aziraphale. He let him see and feel and taste how much he cared for him, how much he needed him… He wished his angel to see all his love, he wished to be seen as a demon who was giving him his heart that he wore on his sleeve…


End file.
